


A Dot Hamburger

by amutemockingjay



Category: Bob's Burgers (Cartoon), Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M, Fluff, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I know this is crack but I can't stop, M/M, Multi, Slow Build, actual plot I swear, i am literal trash, literally I don't know where this came from, not sorry, sorry - Freeform, tagging is a mess, trust me okay I swear it's going somewhere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:12:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7242688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amutemockingjay/pseuds/amutemockingjay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hi,” the boy said. “I’m Alexander Hamilton.” </p><p>Louise managed to let out the breath she had been holding. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to slap the shit out of him. And that was when she knew that she was headed straight for trouble.</p><p>aka the Bob's Burgers AU no one asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Best of Beef and Best of Cheeses

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally the most self-indulgent Hamiltrash thing I have ever written. I have no idea where this idea came from, but it wouldn't go away until I wrote it down. Originally, it was supposed to just be a long oneshot, but then an actual plot happened, and now I've divided it up into six chapters. Each chapter will alternate between Louise's POV, and Hamilton's POV. Much thanks to Kaden, Michael, and Soren for helping me come up with Hamilton-themed burgers of the day, one of which became the title of this fic. Am I totally crazy for doing this? Tell me in the comments (I'm seriously curious as to what y'all think of this). It's also a departure from my usual introspective style; a bit more dialogue-heavy.

The summer before her senior year of high school changed forever with a phone call, and a sign in the window. Louise had been expecting nothing more than the usual summer heat, all three Belcher kids on top of each other in the crowded chaos of the restaurant. What she got was something different entirely.

The phone in the restaurant rarely rang; Louise was in the middle of bussing tables when it went off.

“Louise, honey, could you get that? Momma is busy at the moment.” Linda’s hands were full with multiple dishes.

“Fine.” She stalked over to where the phone was. “What?”

“Louise, you shouldn’t answer the phone with ‘what’,” Tina said on the other end.

“I can if I know it’s you,” she countered.

“How could you possibly…?”

“I know everything, Tina. _Everything_.”

“Well, can you just tell Mom and Dad that I won’t be home for the summer? I’m staying at school. I got an internship.”

“So you’ll be off doing whatever you want, and I’m stuck here bussing your tables?”

“It’s not whatever I want, I’m working on a real news channel. Besides, you can handle bussing tables. You’re a real pro at it.”

“Thanks, Tina, that makes me feel so much better about everything.”

“Look, I gotta go. Can you just tell Mom and Dad, please?”

“Sure.” She hung up the phone with more force than was absolutely necessary. “Mom, Dad, Tina’s not coming home for the summer!”

“What?” Bob poked his head from the kitchen, spatula in hand. “What’s going on?”

“Tina’s staying at college and she’s got some internship thing.” Louise perched on one of the counter stools, decidedly not ready to go back to bussing tables.

“Aw, my little baby is growing up, going out into the world…I’m so excited for her, aren’t you, Bobby? This calls for a dance!” Linda waggled her hips.

“No, Lin, it really doesn’t. I was counting on her help with the restaurant.” Bob sighed. “I guess I have to ask around, see if anyone would be willing to help out.” Business had gotten better for the Belchers over the years, but they still were nowhere near the success of Jimmy Pesto’s—damn him.

Linda clapped her hands together. “Oh, I know! We can have our own intern. Let me make up a sign.”

“Mom, we really don’t need—“ The last thing Louise wanted was some stranger coming into the restaurant and screwing everything up. As was usual with her mother, her pleas fell on deaf ears.

“It’ll just take a few minutes, see!” Linda brandished a bright purple glitter marker.  And she was right. The sign was up in a moment, and Louise glared at it.

“That better not bring anyone into the store.”

“You never know,” Linda trilled with optimism.

“Yeah, you never know,” Gene piped in, tying on his apron.

“Nobody asked you, Gene.” Louise made a mental note to take the sign down as soon as the store closed that night.

“Louise, can you scrub down the tables?” Bob tossed her a rag soaked in cleaner. “The new landlord is supposed to be visiting today, and everything—“

“Has to be perfect.” She finished the sentence for him, catching the rag with one hand.

“Ooh, Bobby, is it that Washington guy? He sounded so handsome on the phone.” Linda appeared to be enjoying the glitter markers perhaps a tad too much.

“Lin, someone just can’t sound handsome, that’s not physically possible.”

“Maybe not physically possible for you!” Gene countered.

Bob pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gene, that doesn’t even make sense.”

“You don’t make sense!”

“Look, can this family just pull it together for half an hour while I make Mr. Washington the burger of the day and hope he doesn’t raise the rent astronomically?”

“I think you’re asking for a miracle, Dad.” Louise wiped down the tables with the kind of expertise she got from years of monotony.

Bob sighed heavily, a sound Louise was used to hearing on a near hourly basis. “You know what, never mind. Just—Gene, get the mop, Louise, wipe down the counters, Lin, please put down the glitter markers and help me in the kitchen.”

“When is he supposed to be coming?” The counters were fairly empty; Teddy had already come and, for once, hadn’t lingered all day.

“Between two-thirty and three.”

Louise glanced up at the clock. “Dad, it’s already two-forty five.”

“Shit. Okay, Gene, forget the mopping—“

“I can mop with my tongue!”

“Oh my God. Gene, just, Louise, can you—“

“On it, Dad.” Louise reached over to the counter to the ice dispenser, slipping a few cold cubes down Gene’s back.

“Ahhh!” Gene leaped to his feet, doing a little awkward dance. “It got in my underwear!”

Louise smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not my problem.”

Gene was hopping from one foot to another. “Ow, ow, ow, it burns!”

Linda was drawing purple glitter butterflies on her arm, courtesy of the markers. “Louise, honey, don’t torment your brother.”

“This is war!” Gene leaned over the counter and filled his hands with ice.

 Louise darted out of the way—though she was nearly seventeen, she was still petite, good at dodging the cubes thrown her way. She ducked under a table, where melting cubes surrounded her like malformed hail.

“Blitz attack!” Gene sunk down to her level and pelted her with the cubes; she raised her arms over her bunny ears to protect them from the onslaught.

She began pelting them back, laughing manically, so deeply involved that she neglected to hear the bell at the front of the shop ring, indicating new customers.

“Louise! Gene!” Bob’s voice boomed from the back of the kitchen.

A pair of boots obscured her vision. No, not just one pair. Two, one smaller than the other.

“Ahem.” The voice was deep, self-assured.

Louise crawled out from under the table, straightening her bunny ears as she did so.

Even before her father said anything, Louise knew she was facing Mr. Washington. He was tall, taller than Bob, dressed in a crisp suit. Bald, with intimidating eyes under heavy brows. He could have commanded an insubordinate army with ease, she was sure of it.

But there was the other one. A boy, looking to be her age. Short, for a boy. Dark hair gathered in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Brown eyes, soft and doe-like. Her breath caught in her throat. Stomach swooping, palms sweating. There was a manic energy bubbling just under her skin, an energy she hadn’t felt in eight years, since the Boyz 4 Now concert she’d attended with Tina.

“Hi,” the boy said. “I’m Alexander Hamilton.”

Louise managed to let out the breath she had been holding. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to slap the shit out of him. And that was when she knew that she was headed straight for trouble.

_Take a breath, Louise. It’s nothing. NOTHING. You can handle this. He’s just a boy. An exceedingly hot—no. No, no, no, no. Just a regular boy. Like Regular-Sized Rudy. You don’t want to slap him._

Her palms itched, itched with the desire to smack him, and she curled her fingers into fists, nails digging into her skin.

“Hi, you must be George Washington.” Bob came out of the kitchen, hand extended for a handshake. Washington shook it with firmness.

“Indeed. You’re Mr. Belcher?”

“Yes, I’m Bob, and this is my wife Linda, my son Gene, and my daughter, Louise. My eldest daughter, Tina, is gone for the summer, so we’re a bit shorthanded at the moment.” Bob brandished a burger on a plate. “Burger of the day: Best of Beefs and Best of Cheeses.”

“Thank you, son.” Washington took the burger with trepidation.

“It’s got three different kinds of cheese: American, gouda, and mozzarella.” Bob shifted nervously. “I didn’t realize you were bringing a guest; I can whip something else up if you want.”

“Yeah, sure.” Alexander perched on one of the stools. “The burger of the day sounds good.”

Just as Bob was about to turn back to the kitchen, Louise rushed ahead of him. “I’ve got it, dad! Really. You should talk to Mr. Washington.”

“All right, I guess.” Bob had taken her intentions revealed at the museum all those years ago seriously, and now he didn’t hesitate to let her take control of the grill.

This time, Louise didn’t trust herself, and perhaps being in the kitchen wasn’t the best idea, but it was better than standing out there with Alexander and doing something she’d regret later.

As she focused on the meat sizzling on the grill, she got snippets of the conversation from the front of house.

“My foster child,” she heard Washington say, then Bob’s murmured tone, something she couldn’t make out.

Then Washington’s boom: “that sounds like a great opportunity! What do you think, Alexander?”

Dread curled in the pit of Louise’s stomach as she assembled the burger. She knew all too well what was about to go down. She pinged the bell at the order window.

“Order’s up!” She couldn’t keep a scowl off her face.

“Thanks.” Alexander smiled at her, and damn it all, she shouldn’t be feeling this way, she was not a girl that went weak at the knees, this was so _stupid_ —

“Don’t. Just don’t.” She snapped back, wiping her hands on her apron and stalking out of the kitchen.

“Louise, can you--?” Bob gave her a questioning look.

“No,” she snapped back. “If you need me, I’ll be upstairs.”

“Louise, your work isn’t done down here,” Bob said.

“Yes, yes it is.” If she stayed another minute, no, another second, she’d say something ridiculous. Or do something worse.

Linda put an arm around her husband. “Let it go, Bobby. I’ll talk to her.”

“Lin, I don’t think she’s going to listen to you.”

“Trust me, Bobby. I’ll take care of it.”

“If you say so.” Linda disappeared upstairs after Louise, and Bob turned his attention back to Washington and Alexander, who were polishing off their burgers.

“So, when can you start?”

* * *

 

Louise launched herself onto her bed in her tiny room—even though Tina was away at college, she still hadn’t gotten a chance at that spacious room. Too many pastel horses for her taste. Burying her face in her pillow, she breathed in the soothing scent of laundry detergent and fabric softener.

Her fingers curled around the bedspread, clutching at the fabric for dear life. This couldn’t be happening to her.

“Just a boy,” she breathed into her pillow. “Just a stupid boy.”

“Louise, honey?” Linda’s voice floated towards the bedroom, and Louise groaned.

“Leave me alone, Mom!”

Of course, Linda proceeded into her room as if she hadn’t spoken at all. “Are you all right?”

Louise lifted her head from the pillows. “I’m fine, okay? Just fine.”

“Are you sure?” Linda sat down on the end of Louise’s bed without invitation.

“Mom!” Louise retreated back into the pillows, her voice muffled. “Get. Out.”

“You don’t usually run away from customers like that.”

“I was not running away. I just….had something to do. Urgently.”

If Louise had been looking up, she would have noticed the understanding cross across her mother’s features. As she was not, the revelation was lost on her.

“Does this have to do with our new help?”

“No,” insisted Louise vehemently, or as vehemently as she could given the lies tripping up her tongue. She wasn’t Tina, who couldn’t lie to save her life or anyone else’s. She was better than this, deception was her game, had been her whole life.

And yet…

“I’ll be fine, Mom. Really. You should go back downstairs and make sure Gene doesn’t set something on fire again.”

Linda sighed, and stood up. “Your Dad wants you to show Alex around tomorrow, help him get oriented.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, Louise, you have to.”

Louise sighed into the pillow. Damn. This was going to be harder than she thought. It wasn’t until Linda’s footsteps disappeared that she realized she didn’t have to like Alexander. She could hate him. Hatred came as easily to her as breathing. She already had an archenemy in Logan, but there was always room for one more.

“I don’t like him,” she said to the empty room. Too bad the words sounded hollow, even to her.

* * *

 

“So, this is the grill. Touch it, and I chop your hands off and serve them on the burger of the day.” Louise glared at Alexander, who, instead of backing off like any other normal human being, seemed to light up a little at her challenge.

“Louise!” Bob called out in warning. She promptly ignored him.

“And that’s about it. Dad says you’ll mostly be in charge of the books, so have fun with that.”

Alexander nodded. “I handled the books at my old job, back in—well, never mind. I’m good at math.”

“Fucking nerd,” she sneered, hands on her hips. “Now get the hell out of my kitchen, and polish some windows or something.”

He retreated, sponge in hand, and Louise proceeded to clean the kitchen with more gusto than necessary. Normally, she hated cleaning, especially the grill, but keeping her hands busy was her savior at the moment. Because his face, his skin, the way he blushed when she had made some smart-ass comment about his scrappy appearance---

No. This was dangerous territory again. Louise threw more elbow grease onto the grill, giving it a scrub that it hadn’t seen in a while. Forearm deep in grease, with Gene’s musical stylings throughout the whole restaurant, she almost forgot. Almost, until the damn order bell rang.

“Louise?” Alexander peeked through the other side, and Louise threw her sponge at him.

“What. Do. You. Want?!”

“Mr. Belcher hates that Jimmy Pesto guy, right?”

“Where did you pick that up from, and who cares?”

“Because in my first ten minutes here he pointed out the restaurant across the way and said that Jimmy Pesto was the literal devil and if I valued my life I would never set foot in there.”

“Yeah, and why are you wasting my time about this?”

“Well, you might want to see this.”

“I swear to God, Hammy, if this isn’t worth me coming out of the kitchen, I’ll cut off your feet and make French fries to go with your extra-special burger of the day.”

He glared at her, amber eyes flashing. “Don’t call me Hammy.”

“I’ll call you whatever I want, _Hammy_. Now show me whatever bullshit has caught your attention.”

She came out of the kitchen and towards the front window, where he was pointing. Jimmy Pesto’s had a brand new sign out front, one of those nice placards that was tied with balloons on each end.

“Under new management,” Louise read. “George King the Third, Royal Enterprises. Who’s George King the Third?”

Much to her surprise, Alexander threw the sponge at the window, sending soapy bubbles cascading down the glass. “An absolute bastard. My foster father’s rival.”

“And I should care about this because…? Right now, Hammy, your toes are not looking good.”

“Because once George King gets started, he never stops.” Louise saw a flicker of fear in Alexander’s eyes, only to be replaced by angry defiance. “Trust me when I say this: you and your restaurant are fucked.”


	2. The Schuyler Swiss-ters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angelica: Why are you working at this place again?  
> Hamilton: Taste your burger. Your mind will be blown.  
> Peggy: Holy shit this burger is like a tastebud orgasm  
> Hamilton: My point exactly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by listening to every Panic! At the Disco album available on Spotify. Let me know what you think in the comments! Also it seems like I am incapable of writing a Hamilton fic without including some Lams.

Alexander Hamilton never expected to find himself here. Away from the hell of St. Croix, ready to create a legacy. A million things he had never done. He didn’t expect his legacy to involve flipping burgers, but there was still time for so much more. That, and Louise wouldn’t let him near the grill anyway.

She was intriguing, the youngest Belcher girl. Not a minute passed that he did not find himself the recipient of various insults, which he fired back with equal vehemence. She didn’t know enough about him to get truly under his skin, and he intended to keep it that way. Nobody knew what made him tick, except maybe Laurens. Alexander shook his head. He couldn’t go down that road again. Not now, at least.

Something whizzed past his head, by instinct he reached up and caught it with one hand. It was a rag soaked in bleach. Besides trading insults, Louise had been throwing various items at his head, keeping score when he failed to catch one.

“You can do better than that,” he taunted, tossing the rag back. It was rewarding, in some strange way, to get a rise out of her.

“Louise,” Bob scolded from where he was in the kitchen. “You have to get ready for the lunch rush.”

“If by lunch rush you mean Mort and Teddy, I think we’ve both got them covered.” Louise indicated the near-empty restaurant.

Alexander sat at the counter, pouring over the bookkeeping Bob had given him. “I think I’ve found a more efficient way of sorting out your expenses, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir. Bob is just fine.” Bob was scribbling ideas for the burger of the day on a piece of scrap paper. Alexander knew he’d never call him Bob, ever.

The door jingled to indicate the arrival of a new customer. Alexander slammed the expense book closed. He could recognize the sound of that walk anywhere. The tip-tap of high heels followed by the whisper soft rush of ballet flats, and the clump of chunky combat boots.

“Alexander!” Three pairs of arms rushed to embrace him. Angelica, in her usual pink, followed by Eliza in aquamarine, and Peggy in soft yellow. Some things never changed, and the Schuyler sisters were one of them.

“We heard you got a summer gig here, so I dragged ‘Liza and ‘Gelica to check it out.” Peggy rocked on the tips of her toes.

“Where’d you hear that from?” Alexander hadn’t taken to inform his ten thousand Twitter followers about this latest development. But he was hoping that the announcement would bring more customers to the restaurant at least.

“I know everything, Hamilton.” Angelica raised an eyebrow, as if she couldn’t believe he would ask such a question.

“I don’t doubt it.” He disentangled himself from their embrace, and stepped behind the counter, pulling a pencil from his apron pocket. “Can I get you anything?”

Peggy, Eliza, and Angelica each took a seat at the counter. Eliza’s almond-shaped brown eyes took in the chalkboard with the burger of the day. “Do you have any recommendations, Alexander?” She asked in her usual soft voice.

“The burger of the day never disappoints.” He had never been immune to Eliza’s beauty and kindness, or Angelica’s razor sharp wit. 

Peggy was swinging her combat boots against the counter. “I’ll take a bacon cheeseburger.”

“I’ll have the same as Pegs.” Angelica placed one hand on Peggy’s knee. “You better stop kicking that in those boots.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“I’ll try the burger of the day,” Eliza said. She reached out towards Alexander and their hands touched briefly, sending a bolt of energy up the back of his spine. She smelled so good, too, like lavender, and he wanted to reach across the counter and hold her—

No. Eliza was one of his best friends. He couldn’t do that.

 _You did that with Laurens_ , the voice in the back of his mind pointed out.

_Yeah, and how well did it turn out?_

He turned around quickly, too quickly, with every intention to get the order out to Louise; instead, he smacked straight into her.

“What the actual fuck, Hammy!”

“Sorry, sorry.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I thought you were at the grill.”

He hadn’t realized what it would feel like, to have Louise so near. Of the overwhelming desire that he had tried so hard to run away from. How she, in that brief moment of contact, brought his body back to life in an urgent way he had not felt since Laurens. Not even his flirtation with Eliza felt quite this, left him reeling.

“Well, I wasn’t, which anyone could have figured out if they weren’t busy staring down our newest customers.” Louise crossed her arms over her chest.

“It’s fine, really,” Eliza broke in.

“Nobody asked you,” Louise snapped back. “Look, I’ll make your stupid burgers.”

“Actually, I will.” Bob broke in. “Louise, please go and get more meat from the freezer.”

“Fine.” Louise pulled off her apron with ill-disguised anger, throwing it towards Bob’s head. She stalked away, only to turn around less than thirty seconds later, storming towards Alexander.

Before he could even think and react, her small fist connected with his stomach. He’d taken worse in the past, but he was still bent over, gasping.

Louise smiled. “Now I’m done.” She skipped off towards the basement, leaving Alexander reeling, and the Schuylers looking at him in disbelief.

“I’m sorry about my daughter. She’s—she’s going through some things right now.” Bob looked over at the trio of sisters. “Burgers on the house. And I’ll whip something up for you, too, Alexander. Take a break.”

Alexander nodded weakly. He sat down at the counter, where Eliza grabbed his hand and squeezed. That was when his phone buzzed. He checked it to find a text in his inbox.

Angelica: What the actual fuck????

Hamilton: It’s fine. Louise is…Louise.

Peggy: That’s not even an answer, Alex.

Hamilton: It’s all the answer you’re going to get.

Angelica: Why are you working at this place again?

Hamilton: Taste your burger. Your mind will be blown.

Eliza: Bob seems nice.

Hamilton: Yeah, he’s a good guy.

Peggy: Holy shit this burger is like a tastebud orgasm

Hamilton: My point exactly.

He pocketed his phone as Louise stalked back up the stairs, meat in hand.

“Thank you for the burger, sir.” Eliza piped up. “It’s amazing.”

“I’m glad you liked it. And please, call me Bob.”

“Yes, thank you,” Angelica and Peggy echoed. Angelica drummed her fingers on the table. “Do you do catering?”

“Sometimes.” Bob took the meat from his daughter. “Louise, I need you to wash dishes in the back.”

Louise stalked towards the back, her loud thumps not lost on the five of them up front.

“My father holds a house party every Labor Day. Kind of an end of summer tradition. It would be great if we could serve your burgers.” Angelica polished off the last bite of her burger.

“Yeah, I think we could manage that.”

“Wonderful!” Angelica slid off her stool and her sisters mirrored her. “I’ll have my father call you.” She wrapped her arms around Alexander. “We’ve got a lot to do, but we’ll see you later.” She let Alexander out of her embrace; he found himself in Peggy’s instead. As Peggy let go, Eliza leaned in and delicately kissed his cheek.

“See you later, Alexander,” she said.

Alexander could see the pink of Louise’s bunny ears out of the corner of his eye. As the Schuyler sisters left the restaurant, he could hear the cacophony of smashing dishes in the background, a lonely sound that shattered more than just porcelain.

* * *

 

“Can I trust the two of you to close without killing each other?” Bob stared down Alexander and Louise. “Lin and I are going out tonight, and Gene has a gig.”

“A gig? Is that what he calls playing his keyboard at the coffee shop open mic?” Louise rolled her eyes.

“Actually, Mort hired him to play at a funeral reception. Apparently the deceased had eccentric tastes.”

“Huh.” Louise seemed to relax a little. “Well, good for him, I guess.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question, either of you.”

“I’m sure it will be fine, Mr. Belcher.” Alexander lied through his teeth. Honestly, he was still reliving Louise’s fist sinking into his body.

“Yeah,” Louise echoed. “I can close up. Go do whatever gross thing you were going to do with Mom. And never tell us about it. Ever.”

“Okay.” Bob looked a little skeptical, but the look disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Louise, don’t forget to mop the floor tonight.”

“Can do.”

“Well…” Bob lingered by the door. “I guess I’m going.”

He leaned in closer to Alexander, dropping his voice to a stage whisper. “Don’t let her get away with half the shit she usually does.”

Alexander nodded. “That’s a promise.” He wouldn’t fight her, but he had been cooking up some insults while she had been washing dishes.

In the end, he didn’t use either. The dinner rush came and went, and the restaurant emptied out, lights flickering in the summer twilight. Louise perched on top one of the tables, legs swinging. Alexander leaned up against the wall, arms crossed.

“Can I ask you something?” He ventured into the empty space, where Louise had been staring at her phone.

“Depends on what it is, Hammy.”

“Can you seriously stop calling me that?”

“Nope,” she responded, popping the ‘p’.

“Fine, _Four Ears_.”

Louise hopped down from the counter and rushed at him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him forward, so their lips almost touched. Not quite. He resisted the urge to kiss her, right there in the middle of the restaurant. “Don’t. Call. Me. That.”

He smirked. “Then don’t call me Hammy.”

“I can’t believe you. Did you talk to him?!”

“Talk to who?”

“Logan, you idiot! He’s the only one who calls me that.”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“Logan! My archenemy. Went to Huxley High eight years ago.”

Alexander broke away from her grip and touched her ears. She slapped his hand immediately.

“Reflex,” she said by way of explanation.

“Sure it was. I called you Four Ears because that’s what you have. Four ears. Guess I wasn’t that original. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll stay the hell out of your way if you stop calling me Hammy.”

It looked like a few conflicting emotions crossed her features, not all of which he could read. “Fine. Hamilton.”

“Thank you.” He walked around the restaurant, picking up spare glasses and debris scattered across chairs and booths.

Louise disappeared into the back; he could hear her fiddling with something, then the radio came blaring on, blasting some alternative rock. She re-emerged with the mop and a bucket of soapy water.

“Do the dishes in the back, Hamilton.” She pointed towards the kitchen, and he did as he was told—well partially.

 He was in the back, but he watched her through the order window as she mopped. Well, she was kind of mopping. More, as the music got intense, she was dancing, dancing as if no one could see her. Dancing without inhibitions. She wasn’t the greatest dancer, but she kept up with the fast paced guitar riffs, using her mop as a makeshift bass to follow along. It wasn’t his taste in music—he preferred hip hop—but he wanted to be out there, hands on her waist, dancing. He turned away from the order window and went to the sink, up to his elbows in suds.

Still, he couldn’t get images of Louise out of his mind. Was it her he longed for, or was it an end to this loneliness, to whatever had broken between him and Laurens? He didn’t know. But he damn well figured he might as well stay as far away from her as possible. Well, as much as he could work in the restaurant and avoid her at the same time.

The door jingled at the front, and Alexander pulled himself out of his thoughts.

“We’re closed!” He heard Louise call.

Then a voice that sent dread down his spine. High-pitched, ridiculous, and distinctly British. “I don’t want one of your horrid burgers.”

Dishes forgotten, Alexander emerged from the kitchen, drying his hands on his apron. “Then why are you here, King?”

The door opened again, this time another man with light hair entered. Louise put her hands on her hips. “What do you want, Pesto?”

“I want to see my new restaurant space.” Jimmy Pesto ran his hands across the faux-leather of one of the booths and frowned.

“What are you talking about, Pesto?” Louise stood up as straight as possible.

“In case you didn’t notice, littlest Belcher, Jimmy Pesto’s pizzeria is under new management. Excellent management, if I do say so myself.” Jimmy Pesto made a small bow in George King’s direction, who took the flattery with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Louise shot back. “That has nothing to do with us.”

“Actually, little one, it has everything to do with you.” King countered.

“Don’t call me little one, or so help me—“ Louise leaped forward, and Alexander stepped out of the shadows and grabbed her shirt, holding her back.

“Oh, if it isn’t Hamilton, Washington’s charity case. Tell me, you son of a whore—“ King’s eyes were glazed with a sheen of madness.

Alexander let go of Louise, ready to charge himself. “King, you son of a bitch.”

Jimmy Pesto stepped between Alexander, Louise and King. “You’re ruining my big announcement. Namely, that Bob’s Burgers will cease to exist. You’re looking at Jimmy Pesto’s brand new pasta bar. With a steam table.” He closed his eyes, as if he were fantasizing about the aforementioned steam table.

“Like hell you will.”  Louise fired back. “We’re never giving up the restaurant.”

“You don’t need to give it up. Washington is struggling to make a name for himself in this town. It would be too easy to convince the bank not to lend him any money to invest. And your father—“ King pointed at Louise, “Never manages to make his rent on time. It would be all too easy to buy you out, to convince the bank to evict you.”

“Then, hello, steam table,” Jimmy Pesto said with pride.

“Never.” Both Louise and Alexander spoke at the same time.

“You’re fighting a losing battle, Belcher,” Pesto said. He began to retreat, pointing at Louise. “We will win.”

“And don’t forget,” King smiled again, so eerie that it gave Hamilton a helpless, trapped feeling, his heart beating too quickly in his chest, “I will kill your friends and family, to remind you of my love.”

Both of them disappeared back out of the restaurant and across the street. Louise sunk onto one of the booths, a defiant, diabolical look on her face.

“Forget what I said earlier,” Alexander started. “About staying out of my way. We have to bring them down.”

Much to his surprise, Louise held out her hand to shake. “Hell yes. We’re not going to let those bastards take everything.”

“All we need is a plan.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Louise said.

Alexander shook his head. “King wants to hurt my family, too. We both plan.”

“Fine. Shake on it.”

He took her hand, and shook.  She smiled. “Hamilton, we’re going to rock this bitch.”


	3. The Hurricane, and What Came After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a hurricane coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being longer than I expected. Very heavily inspired by Panic! At the Disco's song Hurricane, with a touch of Spring Awakening.

There was a hurricane coming. Louise had seen her fair share of them over the years; they weren’t unusual when you lived by the beach. Usually it didn’t do much damage except for the Wharf, which always seemed derelict enough anyway.

Bob had the radio on in the restaurant, posting weather updates as the wind slammed into the front. The few customers who had entered had looked askew, to say the least.

A light rain pelted the window; Louise watched as she sat at the counter, bored out of her mind. At least a summer storm would liven things up a little.

“Alex?” Bob looked up from the deep fryer towards Alexander, who sat surrounded by ledgers. “Do you want a ride home now? Supposed to start storming soon.”

Alexander shook his head. “Thanks, but no thanks. Got too much to do. It’ll be fine.”

The restaurant actually had more than its usual trickle of customers thanks to the weather, mostly beach tourists grumbling about being soaked to the skin, leaving puddles in their wake. There was barely any time for plotting; Louise worked at the grill non-stop with Bob, leaving Linda and Alexander at the front to deal with customers.

But plotting was never far from her mind. She hadn’t mentioned the visit from George King to anyone; the last thing she wanted to do was have her dad worry about the fate of his restaurant. No, she could handle this on her own, as she had handled so many of the crazy things that had gone down in her childhood. Well, not entirely on her own—Hamilton was involved, too. Louise still wasn’t sure if she could entirely trust him, but did she trust anyone outside of her own family?

She was so busy she didn’t notice that the rain had gone from pelting to monsoon level until after they started to clean up for the night, once the dinner rush had come and gone. The radio crackled in and out, blaring out warning for flash floods. Louise stepped out of the kitchen, finding herself watching Alexander, who stared out the window with a faraway look in his eyes.

“Maybe I should have taken you up on your offer earlier, Mr. Belcher.”

Bob pulled his keys out of his pocket and fiddled with them. “Well, I can try to get through with the car now—“

A gust of wind blew the door open, sending small waves of water across the floor of the restaurant. Instantly, Louise jumped up on the counter.

“Or not,” Bob finished. He sighed. “Louise, get the door, please, and lock it.” He tossed her his keys, which she caught with one hand.

She jumped down, landing on the ground with a splash that she was pleased to note hit Hamilton in the face. Her cloth Mary Janes were soaked in an instant, but she didn’t care. Using every bit of strength she had against the wind, she shut the door and locked it.

“All right, Alex,” Bob said. “Let’s get you home. We’ll go out the back.”

That was when, with no warning whatsoever, the power went out.

“Shit!”

“Bobby, where are you?” Linda’s voice cut through the thick blackness.

“Right here.”

“Where is here?”

“Never mind. Everybody upstairs. Now. Link hands.”

Louise felt a callused hand slip into her own. Too small to be her father’s, too rough to be her mother’s. It had to be Alexander’s. She could feel a flush filling her cheeks, thankfully not visible in this darkness. She didn’t hold hands. Not ever. Not even when Regular-Sized Rudy was her Valentine three years in a row. The whole thing was too intimate, made her too weak. She found herself wondering what had given him the calluses; she assumed, being Washington’s son, he had lived the kind of life that didn’t lend itself to roughness.

Somehow, she didn’t know how, they made it upstairs.

“Candles, candles, where are the candles?” Linda sang a little as she stumbled around the kitchen.

“First drawer on the left,” Louise said automatically.

Candles located and lit, a shadow crossed into the kitchen. Gene, with his ever-constant keyboard. “Power’s out.” He grabbed an oatmeal cream pie from the kitchen cabinet and stuffed half of it in his mouth.

“Thanks, genius, I think we figured that one out,” Louise replied.

“Well, if you need me, I’ll be in my room, composing my latest masterpiece.” Gene trotted away, one sock on and one off. Louise shook her head.

“Well, Alex, I can try to take you home—“

The battery-operated radio buzzed to life with a burst of static. “Gale winds up to 95 miles per hour, best to stay indoors, away from any windows.”

“Bobby, honey, I don’t think it’s a good idea to try and fight through the middle of the storm,” Linda said. “We’ll just let Alex stay the night. He can stay in Tina’s room.”

Louise tried to imagine Alexander surrounded by porcelain horses and Equestranauts memorabilia. It was enough to make her snicker, but not enough to offset the bundle of nerves she could feel at the pit of her stomach.

“Lin, a word?” Bob gestured towards the living room.

“Okay.” The pair, candle in hand, headed towards the living room. Louise leaned up against the kitchen counter, counting to one hundred in her mind before following them. The shadows made it easier to avoid being detected.

“I don’t know, Lin,” she heard Bob saying, the flicker of the candle casting a glow around his skin. “Do you really think that’s a good idea, with Louise—“

There was a whisper in her ear, breath warm against her skin, so startling that she almost jumped, and hated herself for being so easily riled up. “What are you doing?” Hamilton. Of course.

“What do you think I’m doing, Hamilton? I’m spying. So shut up so I can hear better.”

“You shouldn’t—“

“Don’t even go there, Hamilton.”

“Fine.”

Louise turned her attention back to her parents.

“I mean, Bobby, Louise is seventeen. She’s not the nine year old girl you still think she is.” Linda cupped one hand against the candle flame, trying to protect it.

“I just don’t know, Lin, how I feel about this.”

“Bobby, he’s a good boy. I think everything is going to be fine. We can’t send him out into a storm like this.”

“Yeah, Lin, I guess you’re right.”  Bob got up, and Louise got the hell out of her place against the wall and sat down at the kitchen table, as if she had been there all along.

“Alex, you can stay the night. In Tina’s room.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Belcher. I really appreciate it.” Hamilton pulled a smartphone out of his jeans pocket. “I’ll just text Washington and Lafayette and let them know.”

Louise smirked. “Have fun with your Equastranauts nightmares.”

* * *

 

She woke up to the sound of screaming. She had always been a light sleeper; her parents could sleep through the destruction of the town and beyond. Gene never screamed in his sleep. Ate in his sleep, definitely. But scream? Never. That left Alexander.

The power was still out, at least as far as she could tell. She reached into the drawer of her night table and found a flashlight, clicking it on. Padding barefoot through the hallway she reached Tina’s room and pushed open the door softly.

Tina’s room hadn’t changed much in eight years. Same posters on the walls, same horses on the dresser. Though Louise would argue that Tina herself hadn’t changed much over the years, and there was something comforting in that.

Alexander sat up in bed, hair messy around his shoulders. Louise clicked off her light, not wanting to cause more screaming.

“Hamilton?”

Sniffles. Was he crying? Louise wanted to turn around and run back to her room. She didn’t do crying. Or screaming much, either, to be honest. But now that she had announced her presence like an idiot, she couldn’t exactly turn around. Unless she convinced him that she was a ghost. But that joke got kind of old after Tina’s adventures with the “ghost” in the box.

“Louise?” His voice sounded raw, hazed with sleep and pain.

“Yeah. I’m here.” She took another step into the room and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. “I just heard you screaming so I thought I’d…” she trailed off, not entirely sure what she was saying. Check up on him? What was she, his mother?

“Sorry if I woke you. Could you click on that light again?”

Louise nodded and clicked on the light. She took a few more steps into Tina’s room. She felt oddly vulnerable at this hour of the morning, dressed in only a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a tank top.

“Power’s still out, I think,” she said, after an awkward pause.

“Yeah.” She saw Alexander shift nervously. “It’s still storming outside. I, uh, get nightmares when we get hurricanes like this.”

“Nightmares?” She shouldn’t care. That’s what her brain kept screaming at her, but her feet were planted firmly on the ground, not moving back to her room.

“Back on my island, St. Croix, there was a hurricane.” Alexander’s voice is soft, there is a cadence to his words, a music Louise can’t quite grasp. “It destroyed the entire town. There was nothing left.”

Louise couldn’t imagine surviving that, being left in the rubble, with no home, just splinters of wood and debris under her feet. Maybe his calluses were earned, in ways she could never truly know.

“You lost everything?”

Alexander nodded. “Pretty much. I ended up here not long after. Got placed in foster care as soon as I arrived. That’s how I ended up with the Washingtons.”

“How long ago was that?” Damn her, she wasn’t supposed to be feeling sorry for him. Or feeling anything for him. He was her partner in bringing down Jimmy Pesto, nothing more.

“Two years ago.”

“I never noticed you at school.” She didn’t know why she said that; hell, she didn’t even know why she was still talking.

“I don’t think you noticed anyone at school.”

“What?” Louise narrowed her eyes at him.

“I mean, we all knew who you were. But besides Regular-Sized Rudy, you pretty much kept to yourself. You could meet my friends, though. If you wanted to. Lafayette and Mulligan are the greatest. And Laurens…yeah. Anyway. You’re welcome to hang out with us anytime.”

“I don’t need friends,” Louise said stiffly. “I’m fine.”

The wind picked up again, with a bang so loud that it would have startled Louise, had she been the type of person who startled. Hamilton made a sound that was so pathetic, she had to bite back some smart-ass remark.

“Louise?” His voice was strained with fear.

“Yeah?”

“Could you stay? I mean, just for a little while. I just…I can’t do this alone.”

She should have walked away right then and there. Just shut off the light and buried her feelings and went on her life without knowing Alexander Hamilton. She was Louise Belcher. She wasn’t anyone’s girlfriend, or dependent, or anything. She did what she wanted, when she wanted. Feelings were not part of the equation, especially not the attraction she held towards him that left her wanting to do things she dared not even name in her own mind. She exhaled.

“Fine.” She crawled on top of the bed, sitting next to him.

“You can lay down, you know.”

“Share a bed with you? Please.”

“It’s not like I…never mind. Whatever you want, Louise.”

What she wanted was to go the fuck back to sleep. Her eyelids were heavy. She yawned. She could put her head down on Tina’s pillow. It’s not like he’d try to spoon her, or something equally as weird. And the pillow was so inviting…

“So.” There was an awkward beat.

“So,” he echoed. Another burst of window panes rattling against the wind drowned out whatever he was saying. Louise could see dried tear tracks down his cheeks, and her heart clenched.

“So, tell me about your stupid friends,” she offered.

And so he did. Told her about Lafayette, who had some ridiculous French name, was descended from nobility, and lived with him as a foreign-exchange student with the Washingtons. Of Mulligan, who looked so tough on the outside, but longed to be a fashion designer with a heart of gold. Of Laurens, who had fought against injustice at every turn.

Louise let herself be soothed by the cadence of his voice, the easiness of his breathing as he relaxed, and felt her eyes closing again. She fell asleep, drifting to the sound of him talking, of the words that she heard only in dreams.

* * *

 

When she woke, sunlight was streaming through the windows. As the world came into focus, she realized that she wasn’t in her room at all, but in Tina’s. It took a few moments for her brain to process and remember what had happened last night.

It didn’t help that in his sleep, Alexander had ended up spooning her. She shoved his arm away roughly. This was bad. Very bad.

“Louise?”  She could hear the soft clump of Bob’s feet against the floor, down the hallway, towards her room.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath. She slipped out of Tina’s bed and stood against the wall.

“Louise, I made pancakes for breakfast.” Bob was getting closer. “Can you get your brother up, please?”

She glanced down the hallway. There was no way she could sneak back into her bedroom without Bob noticing. Her face flushed hot. She hadn’t done anything wrong, so why did this feel like a walk of shame?

She took a deep breath.

_Come on, Louise, you can do this. Just get Gene up. Not a big deal. Pull your shit together._

She stepped out into the hallway. “Can do, Dad.” She headed towards Gene’s room.

“Louise, what were you doing in Tina’s room?”

Her brain whirred, trying to come up with a lie that made sense. Lying was her forte, her game. So why was her brain so empty?

“I, uh, forgot—“

“She was waking me up for breakfast, Mr. Belcher.” Hamilton’s voice was smooth, not the slightest hesitation. “I’m a bit of a heavy sleeper.”

Bob glanced at the two of them, appeared to be working through something in his mind. Then he nodded. “Fine. Just please be at the table in five minutes.”  He disappeared back into the kitchen. Louise visibly relaxed.

“Thanks,” she admitted grudgingly.

“No problem,” he replied. “It was my fault you ended up in a jam to begin with.”

“Yeah. All your fault. Let me get Gene up.” She didn’t know what to say to him, after last night. She didn’t want people to root inside her heart, to make her feel anything other than wildly indifferent.

After several protests and a pillow to the face, Gene was up and the five of them sat around the table, eating pancakes.

“Alex, I can give you a ride home after this, if you’d like.” Bob stacked the dishes next to the sink.

Alexander was immediately on his feet, ready to help with clean-up.

“Oh, honey, you don’t need to do that,” Linda said.

“It’s not a problem, Mrs. Belcher. And I think…I think I’d like to walk home. It’s not far from here.”

“I’m not sure it’s the greatest idea to be walking around after a storm by yourself,” Bob said, elbow deep in soapy bubbles.

“I could walk with him?” Louise’s response was a question, almost. She still wasn’t even sure why she suggested it.

“Louise, I need you at the restaurant.” Bob put a plate on the drying rack. “Hand me the skillet.”

“I don’t know, Bobby, I think you can manage just fine with me and Gene for a little while.” Linda indicated Gene, who was shoving pancakes into his mouth whole.

Louise didn’t know whether she wanted to be grateful or angry at her mother. Either way, that was how she found herself walking down the street with Alexander Hamilton, taking in the post-hurricane destruction.

Nothing too bad, this time. She’d seen worse. But there was certainly enough debris in the street that driving would have been difficult. They walked in the street, and Louise kept to herself, tried to keep the tide of emotions inside her from spilling out.

“Thanks. For last night, I mean.” Alexander kicked a chunk of wood out of his way.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Hamilton.”

“Just…don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Tell? Like I would tell. I’m no rat.”

“I appreciate it. This way.” He took a left, towards where the wealthier inhabitants of the town kept houses near the beach, facing King’s Head Island.

“You live around here?” Louise wasn’t particularly surprised on one level; Washington struck her as a rich man. Maybe not as rich as Mr. Fishoeder was, but still.

“Yeah. Right on the beach. Right here, actually.” He pointed to a town house that set directly on the sand.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around.” Louise knew her words sounded lame, but the whole thing was so awkward she didn’t know what to say.

“Wait! Do you want to sit on the beach for a while?”

Louise glanced out at the ocean, which reflected small diamonds off the surface of the water. It was almost peaceful, even surrounded by the mess left behind by the hurricane. “I guess,” she agreed.

The sand shifted beneath her feet as she walked, slipping into her flats. She should really just turn around and go back to the restaurant. Back to a life without Alexander Hamilton. But she knew that wasn’t possible—she was stuck with him for the summer, at the least. And after that, could she really ignore him at school, either? Ugh. This was what came of socializing. Being stuck with people. Louise stuck to her family for a reason. Family couldn’t hurt her the way other people could.

“So,” Alexander said as they watched the tide wash in, “You know a little about me. But I know almost nothing about you.”

“Maybe I’d rather keep it that way.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care, okay?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“What if I told you that I wanted to get to know you better?”

“I’d say you’re an idiot. Look, if you want a girlfriend, go back to flirting with those Schuyler sisters.”

“I don’t want to date any of the Schuyler sisters. Look, I like someone, but I’m pretty sure she’s not interested.”

Louise dug her feet into the warm sand. “How sad. And how very much not my problem, Hamilton. We got shit to do. People to take down.”

“Yeah, I know. I want King and Pesto to rot in hell just as badly as you do.”

“Yeah. I’m still trying to come up with something. I’ve just been…distracted.” She could feel Alexander’s warm brown eyes on her, and she was overwhelmed with the desire to push him in the sand and kiss him. She scooted away from him a little bit. These feelings were dangerous. Anxiety pooled in the pit of her stomach. She was filled with the overwhelming urge to slap him again. She curled her hands into fists and buried them in the sand.

“I’ve been distracted, too,” he said softly. He leaned in, and Louise knew what was going to happen a split second before it did.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t been kissed before. Regular-Sized Rudy had been her first and only kiss, back when she was a freshman. He had promptly given himself an asthma attack not long after, and she had put a kibosh on any further kissing from that moment forward.

But this was different. When Alexander’s lips touched hers, she was driven with an overwhelming desire to kiss him back. Kiss him properly. So she did, drowning in waves of wanting. She had never understood what was so great about kissing until this moment. His hands were on her waist, and where his skin met hers burned to the touch. In a move quite unlike any other she grabbed his hands and placed them under her shirt, tracing the outline of her bra.

His tongue slipped into her mouth and she met it with hers, deepening the kiss. He traced the outline of her breasts, moved his hand down to the waistband of her black jeans. It wasn’t her, it was some other girl who whispered, “Yes,” who wanted so much more. This wasn’t the Louise she had known her entire life, who was so detached and so much better than this. As his hands travelled further south she did some exploration of her own, pressing her body against his. She could feel his heartbeat travelling a mile a minute, feel his warmth, and the hardness in his pants.

That was when she snapped back to reality. She was on the beach. Making out with Alexander Hamilton. Letting him touch her. Wanting so much more than mere touch. Alarm bells sounded off in her mind. She pulled away.

“Are you all right, Louise?” Hamilton paused the kissing, pressing his forehead against hers.

She stood up. “I can’t do this.”

She tried to come up with some sort of cutting insult, some smart ass remark that would set everything right, put her feelings to one side. But she was coming up with a blank. Her mind flashed back to seeing the Schuyler sisters in the restaurant; how easily he had flirted with them. How good it felt to sink her fist into his stomach. She shook her head. He was too good at this. He knew exactly how to kiss, how to touch, how to make her raw with longing. And she hated him for it.

“Fuck off,” she managed to say, her voice trembling. The slap came so quickly she knew he wasn’t expecting it. She had thought slapping him would feel good. Instead, she just felt like someone had ripped her heart out and buried it in the sand.

So she ran. Ran across the stupid sand, ran down the street.

“Louise, wait!” She could hear Hamilton scrambling behind her, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. She ducked this way and that, slipping into an alleyway between buildings.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out. Unknown number. Probably Hamilton. She opened up the message. It was a picture, of her on the beach, Hamilton’s lips on hers, his hands down the front of her pants. And a message.

Unknown number: I bet your Dad would love to know what you got up to with his newest intern.

She could feel herself turn red, not just from embarrassment but from anger and hatred. She deleted the message, stuck her phone back in her pocket. She wasn’t a crier; had never been. No, if someone decided they could fuck with her, she would fuck with them right back.

So why did she feel so helpless?


	4. Buns and Ships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Best of schemes and best of plans can always go awry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to Stephan for helping me brainstorm this one!

To say that things had gone wrong for Alexander Hamilton would be a massive understatement. The restaurant, his foster father’s newest venture, was doomed, if you were to believe Jimmy Pesto and George King. He had no idea how to stop them from taking over Bob’s and replacing it with the pasta bar. Usually his mind was buzzing at a thousand miles per hour, always jumping from deduction to deduction. Now, as he lay on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, he felt utterly hopeless.

Alexander Hamilton may have been many things, but not caring was not one of them. He cared too goddamn much. His passion spilled out, a poorly kept secret. And whatever plan he had to come up would have to include Louise. If she even wanted to see him again. The way they had left things left him seriously doubting that. He placed his hand on his cheek, right where she had slapped him. Part of him just wanted to call in sick—permanently. But damn it, he wouldn’t let defeat hold him in a grasp so tightly. Not him. Not yet.

He threw on a shirt and a pair of pants and knocked on Lafayette’s door. “Laf, it’s me.”

The door opened a crack. “What do you need, mon ami? I am on the, how you say, Skype video chat with Adrienne.”

“Isn’t like midnight her time?”

“Yes, and?”

Alexander shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever. If you see George or Martha, can you let them know that I’m down at Bob’s for the closing shift?”

“Of course, mon ami.” Lafayette shut the door again. Alexander would have been offended, but he knew Lafayette well enough at this point that it wasn’t an issue. He missed his girlfriend back in France immensely. Their devotion to each other was so saccharine it was almost sickening. Almost.

The walk down to Bob’s didn’t give him much chance to clear his mind as he would have thought. All along the streets, he could see people cleaning up after the hurricane, righting the world. Once again, his thoughts turned towards Louise. How she had stayed with him after the nightmare. How she never expected that kindness from her. How impossibly good it had felt, to fall asleep with her in his arms. And then he had gone and fucked it all up.

He still wasn’t sure how he managed to do so. One moment they had been kissing, kissing and touching and it had been better than he had imagined. The next, she was slapping him and telling him to fuck off. Apologies never came easily to him, but he knew he had to give one. For whatever wrong he had committed. The bell rang as he entered the restaurant. Much to his surprise, Louise was the only one in there, leaning up against the counter.

“Hey,” he tried for casual, not sure if she could hear the tremor in his voice. “Where’s Mr. Belcher?”

“Don’t you ever check your phone?” She snapped. Alexander pulled his phone out of his pocket. Three missed calls, all from the restaurant.

“Must have missed it. Sorry. Care to fill me in?”

“Mom and Dad are gone. Some crisis going on with my grandparents down in Florida. So I’m in charge.”

“Your dad put you in charge of the whole restaurant?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Hamilton. I can run the restaurant just fine on my own. Besides, it’s just for the weekend. It’s not like we have a rush in here. And we’re not completely alone, Gene’s in the basement grinding meat so if we get into some kind of trouble…” She trailed off. “Never mind. Gene would probably be the one who got us into that trouble to begin with.”

“Fair enough.”

“You could wipe down these counters, at least.” She tossed him a rag soaked in cleaner.

He caught it smoothly. He let a few minutes pass in silence, scrubbing down the tables and counters. But Alexander wasn’t one for silences. Or ambiguities.

“Can we at least talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Louise crossed her arms over her chest.

He struggled to get the words out. “What happened. On the beach.”

She started filling the napkin dispensers with napkins. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.”

He ran a shaking hand through his messy hair. “How can there not be anything to talk about? Look, I’m sorry for whatever I did that offended you. I truly am. I don’t know what I did, but it must have been something awful, which was never my intention.”

She slammed the napkin dispenser down on the counter so hard that he could have sworn she left a dent on the formica. “You just don’t get it, do you?”

“God, I wish I did, Louise, but you keep proving me wrong every time.”

She took a step towards him. And another, and another, until they were so close that they were practically kissing again. But instead of kissing, her hand reached up, and she slapped him again. Not as hard as the first time, but enough to knock him slightly off kilter.

“Ow! What the actual fuck did I do this time?”

“That’s what you don’t get, idiot! You don’t have to do anything. I—“ Louise took a breath, and Alexander rubbed his jaw. For someone so small, she had a hell of an arm.

“I what?”

“I…” Louise screwed up her face as if she were in pain. “I…like you, okay?”

“Let me get this straight. You like me, so you slap me.”

“Well, the impulse is there, I just give into it.”

“How about not giving into it next time? Isn’t this a little sixth grade?”

“Look, it’s complicated. What happened at the beach is complicated as fuck.”

“We kissed. And then you yelled at me.”

Louise’s bunny ears trembled with indignation. “You really don’t get it. I haven’t liked a boy since I was nine years old, at the Boyz 4 Now concert.”

“Boyz 4 Now? Seriously?” He raised an eyebrow.

She elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut up, Hamilton.”

“Anyway, liking you gets in the way of what we’re supposed to be doing: bringing down Pesto and King. Who has time for kissing when we have people to fuck over?”

“I’ll concede you have a point.” He couldn’t help but look at her; she was beautiful in her own right, with her hazel eyes and dark hair and slight olive complexion. “Got any ideas?”

She brandished a thin, spiral notebook from the back pocket of her black jeans. “Several, in fact. Hamilton, meet schemes one through five.”

“What happens if we go through all five?”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hamilton, my dear Hamilton, do you have no faith in me? We won’t even need the other four. Just trust me on this one. They are going to wish they had never set their eyes on this restaurant.”

* * *

 

Scheme #1:

“The Historical Society, how can I help you?” Louise had Alexander’s phone on speakerphone; they huddled around it in one of the booths.

“Shit,” Louise swore under her breath, and Alexander looked at her in confusion.

“What?”

“Please hold,” Louise said in a voice that sounded quite unlike her own. She covered the phone with her hand.

“I know the guy who answered the phone,” she said.

“Okay, and this is a problem because…?” Alexander knitted his eyebrows in confusion.

“Trust me, if Mr. Frond knew it was me, we’d be lost before we even started.” She returned to the call. “We have a historic house that may be of interest to you.” She rattled off the address. “Great. See you in a few.”

She slumped down in the booth, closing her eyes.

Alexander eyed her. “Please tell me you have a damn good lie as to why the restaurant is a historic monument.”

“Still working on it. I’ll let you know when I have something.”

“Louise, he’s going to be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Time crunches only make me more brilliant.”

“If you say so.” Alexander wracked his own brain for ideas. He didn’t know the restaurant the way Louise did, but he could surely come up with something.

“I’ve got it!” Louise sat straight up, hand in the air. “Hamilton, leave it all to me. It’s going to be perfect.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Louise, we’re partners. We can do this together, you know.”

Louise waved dismissively in his direction. “Yes, yes, you’re amazing, we all know it. Just trust me, Hamilton, we’ve got this.”

The bell in the front rang, and a tall, balding man in a sweater vest entered the restaurant. Instantly, he eyed Louise.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Mr. Frond! It’s so good to see you!” She oozed sweetness. “May I introduce you to Alexander Hamilton?”

Alexander extended his hand. Mr. Frond didn’t take it. He withdrew it quickly. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Mr. Frond sighed, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “What do you want, Louise?”

“To register the building as a historic monument, of course.”

Mr. Frond eyed the restaurant. “There’s nothing here.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Louise wheedled. “Did you know that this place was a hospital during the Civil War? It’s haunted by the ghosts of Confederate soldiers, right in the basement. I can show you if you—“

Alexander cringed. He could jump in, and correct her, but that would only make things worse, he knew.

“No, I think I’ve seen enough.” Mr. Frond turned around. “We’re in the northeast, Louise. The next time you want to tell me about the Civil War, at least know that there’s no way the Confederacy would have a hospital here.” He left the store with the bell clanging.

Without a second thought, Alexander charged after him. Mr. Frond was not a very fast walker, and he caught up quickly.

“Mr. Frond, sir!”

“Yes?” Mr. Frond pushed his glasses up his nose.

“We need your help. Louise and I. If we don’t get the building registered, we could lose the entire restaurant to Jimmy Pesto.”

“You’re asking me to help the Belcher kids. Do you even realize—“ He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Never mind. My answer is no, Mr. Hamilton. I’m sure whatever Jimmy Pesto is planning will be wonderful.”

Shit. Alexander wracked his brain, thinking on his feet as Mr. Frond turned around again and began to walk down the street. “Mr. Frond!”

“I’m walking away now.”

Alexander jogged to catch up to him; it didn’t take much effort. “Sir, I don’t think you realize how important this is. Bob’s Burgers is a pillar in the community, truly. His restaurant gives a safe space to anyone who needs it. And he makes a great burger, you can’t deny that.”

“Bob Belcher and his family are a menace. You have no idea what you’re advocating for, Mr. Hamilton, and I’m not going to explain it to you. Best you figured it out on your own. And even if I wanted to help, there’s nothing I can do. Good day.”

Alexander was not used to hearing no—well, his whole life, he had heard no. And he had made a difference anyway. Defeat was not an easy pill to swallow, and he took it with bitterness. He returned to the restaurant, his mind spinning with possibilities. What he could have said to convince Mr. Frond. What he could do turn this entire situation around. It was enough to drive anyone mad.

He pushed open the front door to the restaurant. Louise sat on the counter, swinging her legs. She gave him a look of expectation. “Well?”

His shoulders sagged. “He won’t help us. Says there’s nothing he can do. What the hell did you do that made him hate you all so much?”

Louise hopped down from the counter. “You really don’t want to know.” She rubbed her hands together. “That just means it’s on to scheme number two.”

* * *

 

Scheme #2:

“Come here, little king trashmouth the second,” Louise coaxed, gesturing towards the open cage baited with a bite of hamburger.

“This better work,” Alexander stared in skepticism as the raccoon entered the cage and Louise caught it, fist pumping in triumph.

“Of course it will work.”

“You said that last time.”

“Last time was a stupid idea. I should have known Mr. Frond would be into something as lame as local history.”

“There’s nothing wrong with local history. In fact—“

“Save it for your blog, Hamilton. We got shit to do.”

They had two raccoons in custody when they snuck behind Jimmy Pesto’s restaurant. Louise’s plan was simple: unleash the beasts, watch chaos erupt, and call Hugo, the health inspector, to get him to shut down Pesto. Simple enough. The door to the kitchen was left open, and Louise and Alexander snuck in with little notice.

Pesto’s kitchen was a mess. Louise wrinkled her pert little nose. “And Hugo has it out for my dad? Really?”

“This is disgusting,” Alexander said as he examined the stained walls and cracked tile flooring.

“Yeah. Come on, let’s get to the restaurant.”

How they managed to sneak past the chef with two cages of live raccoons remained a mystery to Alexander, but he noticed that the chef was more interested in his phone than the stockpile of Italian food at his disposal.

“Ready?” Louise asked, and Alexander nodded.

“Three, two, one, go!” Louise opened up the cages and the raccoons darted out to the main restaurant, amid screams from customers.

“Go, go, go fucking go,” Louise whispered, pushing Hamilton back towards the kitchen, but not before Jimmy Pesto caught sight of them.

“Belcher! Hamilton!” He rushed towards them, and Alexander had to think quick, had to dart out of the way. They were never going to make it to the street, at this rate.

In an instant, he saw the supply closet, and unceremoniously shoved Louise inside, closing the door behind him and praying Pesto hadn’t seen their hiding spot.

“Ow! What the hell, Hamilton?”

“Sssh. If we can stay in here for a few, maybe we can trick Pesto into thinking we’re gone.”

“Oh, right. Give me your phone.”

The closet was too dark for Alexander to see Louise; instead, all he could feel was her body against his. His heart pounded. He thought again of the beach, of how right it had felt to be kissing her, how he had longed for more than just kisses.

“Hamilton, your phone.”

“Oh, right. Yes.” He brandished the phone, and handed it over, lingering at the touch of her hands, of their roughness and sweetness.

“Damn.” She looked down at the bright screen. “There’s no signal in here.”

“Well, we can’t exactly leave yet,” he pointed out.

“Then how are we going to get the health inspector out here?”

“I don’t think we are.”

She handed the phone back to him. “Son of a bitch.”

“Look, let’s just lay low for a few. Wait for Pesto to give up.”

“And what do you suggest we do in the meantime?”

“This.” He leaned in and kissed her. To his surprise, she kissed him back, her arms around his neck. He placed one hand on the small of her back, the other at her waist. He deepened the kiss, she made a soft moan at the back of her throat. They parted for breath, foreheads pressed against each other.

“Alexander,” she murmured, and he loved the way his name sounded in her voice, full of yearning and desire.

She unlaced her arms from around his neck and kissed him again, tugging on the hem of his shirt, then slipping her hands underneath the cotton. He hesitated as he fiddled with the ends of her shirt, uncertain, but wanting. His skin burned at her touch.

“May I?” He whispered.

“Yes.”

He leaned in and kissed her neck, drawing satisfaction from her sigh. His hands moved under her shirt towards her bra, tracing the outline of the fabric against her skin.

“You’re good at that,” she whispered.

This only pushed him further, pressing himself up against her, getting his fingers tangled in the hair exposed beneath her bunny ears.

He kissed her again, slipping his tongue into her mouth. She responded in kind, and he lost himself in the moment, in the taste of her, in the sweet scent of her skin that reminded him of summer rains back on St. Croix.

He was so lost in her, in wanting every part of her, that he didn’t register the light until it was too late. The closet door was unceremoniously shoved open, the entire restaurant witness to the two of them glued together, his hands up her shirt, her panting with lust. Jimmy Pesto glared at them, and Alexander stepped away from Louise as if he had been burned by a grease fire.

“Out!” He pointed towards the door. “You have thirty seconds before I call the police.”

Alexander didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed Louise’s hand and the pair ran out of the restaurant, and across the street to Bob’s.

“And where have you been?” Gene stood at the grill, hands on his hips. Alexander noticed that Louise’s lips were swollen, her cheeks still flushed.

“Nowhere,” she said.

Gene pointed the spatula at his sister. “You look guilty!”

“Shut up, Gene, and let me handle the burgers.”

“Your wish is my command.” He sidestepped the grill. “If you need me, I’ll be playing my latest masterpiece outside, bringing people in.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Thank God, the restaurant was empty, as per usual. Louise leaned up against the counter, unable to meet Alexander’s eyes.

“So,” she said softly.

“So…not the most successful venture,” he said. “Well, successful perhaps in other ways. But I’m calling it.”

“Calling what?” She brought her gaze upward.

“Starting tomorrow, we do things my way.”


End file.
